Trust in Sherlock: Book 2

Trust In Sherlock (BBC Sherlock)

WELCOME BACK TO THE WORLD OF SHERLOCK! Extra super long chapter to begin with! Enjoy!

MAGGIE POV

I never gave much thought to my future. I figured it'd be like everyone else's. I would grow old and die. I'd grow old with my husband.

I never expected to die young.

People seem to take your death worse when you're young than when you're old. People usually say, "Well she lived a long and happy life." But when you're young, people don't like to bring up the topic. They try to forget but they never really do. Trauma like that is hard to push away and forget.

I trusted Sherlock Holmes and look where it's gotten me. I'm dying and I'll never see him or John or anyone else for a very long time.

Death makes you feel weightless, like a feather caught in the wind. You feel lost and unsure of where you'll end up. You're not in control. You're at the mercy of the breeze.

Well now it's my turn to be that feather.

The feather with no specific location. Just floating and leaving behind all that is familiar to it.

Sherlock left us once. For three years. I never got the chance to ask him how he kept his sanity throughout that time. I could use that information right now.

This is going to kill me.

*********

I'm laying on my back, my blood pooling around me. Every second, I felt lighter and lighter. My vision was blurred and every sound echoed.

I heard a shout and I groggily turned my head.

Sherlock was struggling in someone's grasp. I couldn't remember their name. I watched calmly as tears poured down Sherlock's face.

"Maggie!" His shout echoed and a ringing started to fill my hearing. His muffled echo being replaced by the ringing.

"I'm so sorry." I whispered and felt a tear pour down my own cheek.

I heard the click of a gun near my head. I looked over and saw Moriarty leaning over me, a smile on his face.

"Good night, Margaret." He said and pulled the trigger.

*******

I shot up in bed, breathing heavily and holding in the scream bubbling up in my chest.

The dark eyes of Jim Moriarty still haunted me. Despite never having a conversation with the man, he made Sherlock nervous and that was nearly impossible to do.

Why am I having nightmares about a man I've never met nor have I ever heard him speak.

I took a shaky breath and looked around my flat.

I had fallen asleep on my couch the moment I walked through the door. I don't even remember the walk home from Sherlock's flat.

I shuffled to my kitchen and get a glass of water. I didn't trust myself with hot water in my groggy state.

I looked at the clock hung on my wall. It was midnight.

How had I slept that long? I remember leaving Sherlock's at six o'clock. That's it.

Sherlock had been distraught over Moriarty's message. Well not distraught, more like angry and stunned.

Earlier that day: SHERLOCK'S FLAT. 5:30 PM

"Sherlock?" I shook his shoulder gently. He continued to stare at the screen. "Sherlock?" I repeated.

No reaction.